


that sweet something

by paisleystyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (barely), Baking, Fluff, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Pumpkin Picking, everyone's a mess but its fine, halloween party, look essentially its a lot of halloween fluff, teensy bit of ziam of u squint, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paisleystyles/pseuds/paisleystyles
Summary: ‘For the love of God, just send him a text, Lou. Please. Just be chill and say you need help with thinking of a theme and some decorations for your party – which isn’t a lie, anyway - and you heard he’s photographed a lot of parties. Just be casual.’Louis exhales heavily. ‘So, don’t let on about my stupid crush on him, when I don’t even know that he’s gay? And how I want to cook badly for him and live with him and wake up-’‘Maybe save that that for the second date,’ Zayn interrupts. ‘Wouldn’t want to scare the poor fella off.’ Zayn smiles then, warm and bright. ‘You’ve got this, Lou. If he is into guys, he’d be crazy not to like you. Anyone would. Just don’t go in too hard at the beginning, okay?’or: a single dad au in which Louis hosts his annual Halloween party and needs a little help from a certain someone to make it all run smoothly. Featuring Zayn as Louis’ ever-exasperated colleague, Liam as a pumpkin patch owner and Niall as Niall, only with more highlighters.





	that sweet something

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so this my first fic for the fandom and i thought what better to write than some halloween fluff!!
> 
>  
> 
> the most massive thank you to [awhina](https://everythinisfookingreat.tumblr.com) and [karri](https://theeastgable.tumblr.com) for being the absolute angels they are and helping me with this fic, im so so thankful for u guys <3333 
> 
>  
> 
> also to [abbie](https://alwaysinmyheartte.tumblr.com) for helping me in my seemingly never-ending moodboard struggles!! ilysm bean 
> 
>  
> 
> hope u enjoy!!

Louis Tomlinson is late. Embarrassingly, drastically late. ****  
** **

 

And he has rusks all over his floor, a screaming child on his hip and an insistent doorbell. If he was going to employ the dramatics that this situation deserved, he would describe his kitchen as the scene of a toddler-snack explosion - there’s even some kind of unidentifiable smear on the _window_ – and it isn’t even nine o’clock in the morning.

 

Louis has a rather long list of swear words that he would love to be using right now, but he manages to purse his lips and keep himself quiet for the sake of the younger ears in the room.

 

Firstly, Louis is twenty-four. He’s surely faced enough adversity in his life to enable him to deal with a minor food catastrophe such as this. He’d grown up with four sisters, for heaven’s sake, he was no stranger to ridiculous amounts of food in unexpected places. Though he wasn’t much of a cook himself - yet - his culinary endeavours frequently result in disasters such as this one.

 

Secondly, Olivia is turning four this year. In the past years, he’s endured messes even his sisters couldn’t have prepared him for. Changing nappies, supermarket tantrums, highchair food-throwing - you name it, Olivia has done it.

 

Right now though, his head is in a spin.

 

Louis looks down at his tailored navy suit, a piece of clothing he wears specifically on days when he has to make tricky business proposals. Today had promised to be an absolute monster, a lunch meeting with some clients from a company his business partner had had his eye on for months now. Their support was crucial for their next contract, a set of engineering plans and blueprints Louis’ company, Tomlinson & Malik Engineering, has been chosen to produce. And while they’ve done their fair share of blueprints before, these ones require some mathematical procedures that are far beyond Louis’ capabilities, or even Zayn’s. And he’s supposed to be arriving at the office around _now s_ o he and Zayn can go through the finer points of their strategies for securing the job at the lunch before Louis catches a cab to a posh restaurant in the city. Except now a large portion of his suit is covered in porridge. And Louis is ninety-percent sure that most of it has actually been _in_ Olivia’s mouth. ****  
** **

 

 _Dammit, dammit, dammit._ ****  
** **

 

Louis shifts Olivia’s position on his hip, her wispy blonde hair tickling his cheek and neck as he does so. Miraculously, she’s stayed almost entirely clean throughout this whole scenario, barely any food on her. ****  
** **

 

‘How do you do it, Liv?’ he asks her, bouncing her up and down until she starts to giggle, ‘Daddy’s absolutely covered in porridge! What are we going to do?’ ****  
** **

 

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ she laughs, as Louis bounces her repeatedly, ‘door, Daddy, door!’ ****  
** **

 

Oh, yes. Because after all of this, the bloody doorbell is still ringing. ****  
** **

 

Louis picks his way to the front of his flat with practiced ease, stepping over toys, furniture and even one sleepy, disgruntled cat. _Lucky beast._ Louis’ tomcat, Puck (named after one of his favourite Shakespeare characters) is spread-eagled on his stomach, limbs flung out in all directions, purring loudly in his sleep. Unfortunately, he’s also blocking the door. ****  
** **

 

‘Coming, I’m coming!’ Louis yells over the noise of the doorbell. ‘Just, hold on, got to move…’

 

Louis is less than keen to disturb Puck, who sleeps like the dead and is borderline murderous when he wakes up, but if he actually wants to get out the door – _it’s nine-fucking-fifteen –_ he needs to, _now_ . ****  
** **

 

‘Livvy?’ Louis turns her around on his chest so she’s face to face with him. ****  
** **

 

‘Yes, Daddy?’ She answers, a hint of a lisp still adorably evident in her voice. ****  
** **

 

‘You want to play with Puck, little love?’ Louis asks gently, setting her down on the carpet. ****  
** **

 

Olivia doesn’t even respond, seemingly over the moon to have actually been _asked_ to play with the cat – usually Louis steers her away due to Puck’s unfounded hate for what seems like all of humankind and his typical method of deterring any human affection with a quick flash of claws – but this morning he’s desperate. And Louis is sure the he’ll react slightly more kindly to seeing Olivia’s face first when he wakes up than Louis’. ****  
** **

 

Hell, Louis can’t blame him. ****  
** **

 

Sure enough, Puck’s affronted _miaow_ when Olivia splays her tiny hands throughout his fur and lifts him carefully off the carpet isn’t nearly as loud as it would have been if Louis had tried. Holding Puck tightly in her arms, Olivia walks slowly, meticulously, to the couch and sets herself down, Puck on top of her. Louis watches with a small smile on his face as she swaddles the cat with a blanket until he’s little more than a bundle of purring brown fur, stroking him softly. ****  
** **

 

‘He’s asleep again, Daddy,’ she whispers (well, whisper-yells) to Louis with a proud grin. ‘I got him back to sleep.’ ****  
** **

 

Louis gives her a thumbs-up before finally smoothing down his stained outfit and fiddling with his fringe with his spare hand, even though he knows his efforts are futile. There’s little one can do after being covered in porridge from head to toe, even in a limited release, midnight-blue Ralph Lauren suit. ****  
** **

 

He’s interrupted form his distinctly pessimistic musings from another knock on the door, louder this time, accompanied by a loud, piercing yell: ‘Louis, please open the door! I’ve been here for _twenty minutes!_ You can’t be _still_ doing your hair, I’m telling you, that quiff is probably fossilised to your head by now! You’re the most self-centred twenty-four year old I’ve ever met! _’_

 

Louis grins, he enjoys this part of his morning immensely. ‘Hold on, childminder!’ he calls back with a smile, ‘I’m just finishing the last of my preparations for my _extremely important_ meeting today, where I will get to sample some of the city’s most _delicious_ food and drink, hopefully securing another job that will enable me to buy –'

 

He’s interrupted by a loud laugh, followed with more yelling, ‘you absolute, utter _di_ …oops, sorry Liv, I mean, Louis, open the door, this corridor isn’t heated, you know!’

 

Louis is completely overcome with laughter now, his shoulders shaking as he bends over, head in his hands. Spluttering, he manages to choke out a, ‘and what do you say, Perrie?’ ****  
** **

 

There’s a loud yell of laughter from outside his apartment, and when he finally yanks the door open he’s met with the sight of his daughter’s babysitter leaning against his door frame, shaking from the cold and probably the absolute _ridiculousness_ of their morning routine. She’s clad in a thick dark-green coat, gloves, knit beanie and a pair of sturdy-looking boots, though, and is still shivering madly. It’s unseasonably chilly for autumn. Louis supposes he should let her in before she freezes permanently to his doorstep. ****  
** **

 

‘Alright, peasant. In you come.’ ****  
** **

 

Grinning, Perrie whacks him on the leg with her leather tote as she crosses the threshold, _hard_ . Louis has no idea what she could have in that thing to make it feel like being bashed with a brick, but he never wants it to come into contact with him again. ****  
** **

 

‘Thanks, lazybones,’ she says to him, yanking off her beanie and dumping her bag on the floor with a loud _thunk_ . Her hair is pastel pink now, has been for a few months, although Louis often reminisces fondly over Perrie’s brief experiment with green hair dye, which had proved him with enough plant-related jokes for about a month afterwards. He’s yet to come up with any pink puns half as good. ****  
** **

 

‘Per!’ Olivia quickly abandons the cat and toddles over to Perrie, wrapping her little arms tight around her. ‘I’ve been helping Daddy. Puck is asleep now.’ She points at the cat, not three metres away, as if the loud sound of feline snoring wasn’t enough of an identifier. ****  
** **

 

‘Hey, Livvy,’ Perrie smiles, hugging Olivia back and picking her up, ‘you ready to have fun today?' ****  
** **

 

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Olivia’s excitement is frankly the cutest thing Louis has ever seen, her little starfish hands pumping up and down, her legs kicking. ‘What will we do, Per?’ ****  
** **

 

‘Well,’ Perrie says, leaning in to press her nose against Olivia’s, ‘we have to wait for your Daddy to go, first.’ She smirks at Louis. ‘We’ve got cupcakes to make, games to play, napping to do…’ ****  
** **

 

Honestly, Louis wonders why he didn’t just become a babysitter. The amount of money he pays Perrie is frankly staggering, she’s far sassier to him than he would ever allowed to be to potential clients, and most of all, he would give anything right now to stay home all day with Olivia.  ****  
** **

 

Grimacing slightly at the mushed porridge he can feel behind his collar and cuffs, Louis finally picks up his briefcase, shrugs on his jacket and shoes and leaves his apartment, only after giving Olivia the biggest goodbye kiss ever and promising Perrie that he won’t be too late home (which they both know is a lie). He leaves them playing an exuberant game of snakes and ladders, Olivia’s giggles drifting out the door with him. ****  
** **

 

The autumn chill bites at him as Louis steps out the front door of his apartment complex and walks quickly in the direction of the park, the fastest route to his office. As he walks, Louis pulls his crimson scarf tighter around his neck and jams his hands deep in his pockets, feet already frozen in their loafers. He passes through the gilded, ornate gates of the park, inwardly moaning about the weather and repeatedly pushing his near-frozen fringe out of his eyes. ****  
** **

 

He’s wrestling with his scarf, which, thanks to the whipping wind, is close to _strangling_ him, when he hears it. ****  
** **

 

The lilting notes of a guitar ringing through the cool air, the sound immediately piquing his interest. ****  
** **

 

Louis spins slowly around, searching for where the sound is coming from, wondering who on earth would want to be outside in weather like this. ****  
** **

 

Eventually he spies the source of the song, which he can now identify rather ironically as being The Beatles’ _‘Here Comes the Sun.’_ ****  
** **

 

On the other side of the rose bushes that Louis so fiercely detests (originating with an incident that occurred when some rather expensive gloves were rudely introduced to the gigantic thorns) is a young man, probably a year or so younger than Louis himself, battered guitar tucked under his arm. He’s sitting cross-legged on a frosty park bench, legs tucked up underneath him, seemingly oblivious to the howling wind. He’s wearing a ridiculous orange beanie with purple stars on, the skinniest jeans Louis has _ever_ seen, and a purple sweater that doesn’t even look warm. Even with most of his hair jammed under the beanie, Louis can see that it’s long and curly, just tickling his shoulders. The boy’s eyes are warm as he smiles gently at Louis, fingers steady and sure on the strings of the guitar as he plucks out a delicate melody. ****  
** **

 

And while he can’t deny that the boy looks happy, joyous even, as he strums his guitar and hums softly along to the song under his breath, guitar case open in front of him and containing a few gold and silver coins, Louis can’t help wondering if he’s okay. If he has another job, maybe, and he busks for fun, for a bit of extra cash. If he’s actually completely loaded with cash and doesn’t need a job at all, and just passes his time playing songs on park benches, with sweaters the colour of sunsets and a smile like warm honey, just to make Louis’ heart vibrate in his chest like it’s currently doing. ****  
** **

 

All of this is flashing through Louis’ head at alarming speed, and he realises he’s blatantly staring at the boy after what he hopes is only a few seconds, but was probably more like thirty. _Nice going, Tomlinson._ ****  
** **

 

‘Shit, uh, I mean, sorry,’ he stammers, face warm. ‘I, uh, didn’t mean to, sorry.’ ****  
** **

 

But. The boy is pretty, so pretty, and he’s singing a song about sunshine. So. Louis cuts himself a little slack. ****  
** **

‘It’s fine!’ The boy says, and _wow._ His voice is like honey too, thick and syrupy and _slow_ . ‘You weren’t bothering me. It’s nice to have an audience, for once.’ Louis is hopelessly mesmerised at the coral blush that steals across his pale cheeks, eyes caught on the way the boy absentmindedly rubs the soft hem of his sweater in between his fingers. ****  
** **

 

‘I, uh.’ Louis isn’t surprised that his mouth doesn’t seem to be producing actual words, but he wishes his brain wouldn’t completely abandon him in situations like this. ‘I really love that song, is all. And you’re really good on guitar. I tried to teach myself off YouTube, once, but I gave up. Couldn’t figure out where I was supposed to put my fingers, or which strings were which.’ He’s rambling, but it’s kind of making sense. It’s not his best conversation work, but definitely not his worst, either. That takes alcohol. So it’ll do. ****  
** **

 

The boy is all smiles now, warmth tugging at his lips as Louis speaks, nodding along with his words. ‘I didn’t really start playing guitar until university, I guess,’ he says softly, ‘I wish I had started sooner. It’s my favourite thing to do.’ ****  
** **

 

His words are so quietly passionate that Louis can’t help feeling hopelessly endeared by this utter stranger, cheeks bitten red with chill. ****  
** **

 

Louis opens his mouth, probably about to say something stupid, again, when his phone rings out shrilly, effectively killing the moment. Whatever ‘the moment’ is. God. He needs to get to work. ****  
** **

 

Louis’ hands are still trembling a little as he fishes his phone out of the pocket of his coat. It’s Zayn. Something vitally important, no doubt. He raises the device to his ear. ‘Meerkat control,’ he deadpans, ‘we’ll catch any meerkat, no matter how large.’ ****  
** **

 

The man gives a squawk of surprised laughter and then slaps his palm quickly over his mouth. It’s so cute Louis has to look away. ****  
** **

 

Zayn, used to Louis’ telephone antics, simply ploughs on. ‘Lou! Thank god. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning.’ Zayn’s gruff, ‘morning-voice’, as Louis calls it, reverberates down the line. ****  
** **

 

‘Yeah, well, you know what it’s like. Chaotic as usual.’ The porridge incident is still too raw in Louis’ memory to discuss even with Zayn. ****  
** **

 

‘After that late-notice babysitting thing, yes, unfortunately, I _do_ know,’ Zayn replies, a touch frostily. Surely he can’t s _till b_ e bitter over that. How was Louis to know that Zayn really wasn’t the best with kids, and he would end up having to reimburse him roughly the cost of the dinner he had to rush to attend? ****  
** **

 

Well, actually, anyone who had known Zayn for as long as Louis had might of actually suspected something of the sort. But he’d been desperate.  ****  
** **

 

‘Anyway, you better be close, man,’ Zayn continues, crunching sounds coming down the line as he most probably chows down on the last of his breakfast waffles, ‘Niall’s about to go round the bend. You never even told him what time you wanted the taxi for, and you know how he is about those kind of things.’ ****  
** **

 

This Louis did know. For a chill bloke who mostly took life in his stride and had a joke to make about anything, anywhere, Niall did not respond well to last-minute decisions. Louis generally made sure to talk to him about his plans for the week on a Monday so Niall could put it all down in his colour-coded diary and be done with it. It was better just to keep him happy. ****  
** **

 

‘Alright, alright,’ Louis said, already expecting a full-on ribbing from Niall when he arrived in the office, ‘I’m just coming through the park. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’ ****  
** **

 

Pocketing his phone again, he turned around to find the guitar-playing boy watching him with earnest eyes, that honey smile seemingly a permanent fixture on his face. ****  
** **

 

‘I, uh.’ Why couldn’t he seem to form any coherent words today? ‘Gotta go.’ Louis gestures vaguely in the direction of the southern park gates with his left hand. _God._ He’s worse than Zayn whenever he gets himself a new boyfriend – a standard he had always vowed _never_ to slip below. ****  
** **

 

But the boy is still smiling at him, looking at Louis like he’s the most fascinating thing in this whole park, and Louis can feel his face heating up again. ****  
** **

 

‘I’m Louis, by the way,’ he blurts, sure his face is fire-engine red. ****  
** **

 

The boy sets his guitar down carefully beside him, and stretches a hand out towards Louis. ****  
** **

 

‘Nice to meet you, Louis,’ he says, eyes bright. ‘I’m Harry.’

****

***

****

When Louis arrives at his office a spectacular thirty minutes late, he finds Niall behind the front desk, as normal. Only, he’s armed with about a dozen coloured highlighters, frantically scribbling on a piece of paper that’s lying in front of him. Not so normal. ****  
** **

 

At least, not this early in the morning. ****  
** **

 

‘Hiya, Ni,’ Louis says, approaching the desk with only a little bit of trepidation, ‘um, you, are you okay?’ Niall’s got a pink highlighter smudge on his cheek and his computer is making an incessant high-pitched beeping noise, rather loudly. ****  
** **

 

Niall jumps at the sound of Louis’ voice, seemingly lost in highlighter-land, his frown deepening. ‘Lou, you bastard! Would it kill you to give me the details _more_ than an hour beforehand?’ He’s tapping incessantly at his keyboard, a smile only just visible beneath a level of anguish that continues to befuddle Louis each time this scenario plays out. ****  
** **

 

‘Yeah, I, uh,’ Why is Louis is fumbling his words ridiculously today? He blames the temperature. It’s surely enough to freeze a few neurons. ‘Was gonna text it you this morning, but, god. I was running late, and then I… never mind. Won’t happen again, Ni.’ He quickly relays the taxi and restaurant information to Niall. ****  
** **

 

Niall just raises a single eyebrow, smiling, and then taps the relevant information into the computer, telling Louis that the taxi will be along in less than an hour, no thanks to him. ****  
** **

 

Louis pretends to look outraged, ruffling Niall’s blonde quiff until he starts squirming, and then heads upstairs in search of Zayn. He weaves his way through the complex’s corridors towards Zayn’s office, footsteps soft on the building’s thick carpet. Zayn, (predictably), is slumped almost horizontally at his desk, clutching a steaming cup of something in one hand and tapping repeatedly (some might say angrily) on a calculator with the other. Louis just smiles - typical Zayn-before-2pm-behaviour. Louis intervenes the way he always does, of course, and barges into the office loudly, yelling at Zayn in ‘greeting’ - Zayn might argue differently, but, anyway.

  ****  
** **

‘Louis, for the love of God.’ Zayn’s voice is a coffee-clouded mumble. ‘Please, please, _please_ keep it down this early in the morning, it’s... wait.’ Zayn’s looking at Louis now, hair mussed around his face in a bizarre sort of halo. ‘What happened to _you_ ?’  ****  
** **

 

Louis frowns, touching his cheeks with his fingers. ‘What? I didn’t get pen on my face, did I? Or porridge. God, it’s porridge, isn’t it. I -’ ****  
** **

 

‘Lou, no,’ Zayn sounds far too exasperated for the brief level of detail he’d given. ‘You just look… happy. Like, really, really happy.’ ****  
** **

 

‘Maybe I just had a better morning than some,’ Louis retorts, inwardly cursing his body for giving him away, ‘it is possible, you know. You could try three less cups of whatever you’re chugging there, for a start.’ ****  
** **

 

Zayn sighs, raising his eyebrows at Louis’ diversion techniques. ‘Where was the cute boy this time, Lou?’ His voice is teasing, barely shrouding bubbling giggles. ‘The coffee shop? The elevator? God, Perrie’s new boyfriend? I thought it wasn’t that serious yet. Is he walking her right to your door?’ ****  
** **

 

Louis makes a face. ‘No, not Perrie’s new boyfriend. God. I have _some_ level of restraint.’ ****  
** **

 

'Then where?” Zayn persists, smiling. ‘You’ve got that cute-stranger look going on.’

 

Louis shakes his head, ruefully. ‘Well, if you must know…’

 

‘I’m your business partner, Lou, it’s literally my job to know _everything_.’

 

‘Remind me why we’re friends again?’

 

‘Beats me,’ Zayn says cheerfully. ‘Now, this new muse of yours? Light of your life? A fallen angel from heaven? A-’ ****  
** **

 

‘The park,’ Louis interjects, more to shut Zayn up than anything else. ‘I met him in the park.’ ****  
** **

 

‘The _park_ ,’ Zayn parrots, adopting a terrible tv-show host voice, ‘hm. Will love blossom among the poorly maintained rose bushes? Or will -’ ****  
** **

 

‘God, shut up,’ Louis groans loudly. ‘You’re terrible, you know. I need to go immerse myself in emails and forget this all happened.’  ****  
** **

 

‘Sure,” Zayn winks, ‘sure. I’ve seen you and the whole lovesick-puppy-crush thing. I won’t be expecting a whole lot from _you_ today.’ ****  
** **

 

‘I resent that!’ Louis says over his shoulder as he walks back into the corridor, “You’ll see, Zayn Malik!’ ****  
** **

 

But try as he might to focus on emails and schedules and blueprints, Louis can’t seem to get the image of a certain curly-haired, rosy-cheeked boy out of his head.

****

***

****

Louis notices the Halloween decorations appearing in the shops around mid-September, which is clearly far too early. God, Halloween isn’t for more than another _month._ And Louis loves Halloween, like, forces his friends to go pumpkin picking and attend his yearly Halloween party level of love, but currently his head feels like it might explode and it’s just _too much._ ****  
** **

 

He’s in the supermarket currently, debating the merits of wholegrain vs wholemeal bread, when Olivia comes running down the aisle to him ( _he’d looked away for a second, god),_ brandishing a garish-looking plastic pumpkin basket. For good measure, she’s also thumping it against her closed fist as a sort of drum, and the noise it produces make Louis want to tear his hair out. ****  
** **

 

He takes a deep breath. ****  
** **

 

‘Can I get this, Daddy?’ ****  
** **

 

 _Of course._ ****  
** **

 

Among other things, Olivia definitely inherited Louis’ love of Halloween, and this year is the first she can properly understand what it all means. She’s clutching the bucket to her chest with such reverence that Louis almost pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. ****  
** **

 

Louis shakes his head though, thinking of their cramped flat and even more cramped storage cupboards, the idea of yet another useless plastic _thing_ making him shudder. No, there is no way they’re leaving the store with that. ****  
** **

 

‘Livvy, no,’ he says softly, crouching down, ‘we’ve got one almost exactly the same, at home. We don’t need to get this.’ ****  
** **

 

Olivia juts out her bottom lip and frowns. ‘But I want this one, Daddy,’ she whines, ‘ _please_ ? It’s a pumpkin. Ours is boring.’ ****  
** **

 

Louis tries not to look affronted at the attack on his trick-or-treat basket, which he’s had since he was six years old. ‘I’m sorry Liv, but no,’ he says, praying to the gods of parenting that this doesn’t lead to a tantrum. ‘We’re not buying the bucket. But Halloween will still be loads of fun, I promise.’ ****  
** **

 

Olivia looks dangerously close to crying now, eyes welling and lip shaking. Louis holds his breath, reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder- ****  
** **

 

And then all hell breaks loose. ****  
** **

 

Olivia manages to lob the bucket halfway down the aisle in her anger, arms flailing as the she throws one of the most spectacular tantrums Louis has ever seen. She’s pounding the ground with her fists, screaming things Louis can’t even understand. He does manage to make out the occasional helpful word, however, like ‘daddy’ and ‘stupid’. ****  
** **

 

Louis half-jogs to retrieve the bucket before any of the staff see, and then attempts to pull his daughter up off the floor, her screams getting louder and more frenzied. Louis is lucky the shop is relatively deserted, because it’s proving to be a difficult task.

 

He’s just beginning to wonder if maybe he’ll have to give and buy the damn bucket after all – Olivia doesn’t show any signs of stopping – when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him. ****  
** **

 

Louis spins around, an apology ready on his lips, and- ****  
** **

 

It’s Harry. ****  
** **

 

It’s probably a sign of something Louis doesn’t particularly want to think about that he can remember Harry’s name so fast, and that he immediately takes a small step back to take in his whole appearance: scuffed boots, those damn skinny jeans, a huge black coat and a pink scarf holding all his curls off his forehead. Louis begs his brain not to say anything stupid. ****  
** **

 

‘Hi, Louis!’ Harry chirps, and then immediately blushes, probably thinking along the same lines as Louis. _Perfect strangers who meet in the park don’t remember each other’s names in the supermarket four days later._ ****  
** **

 

‘Hi, Harry,’ Louis smiles, finally succeeding in pulling a now-quiet Olivia off the floor, ‘what, uh, what’re you doing here?’ ****  
** **

 

Louis wants to throw himself off a cliff. He mentally files that question into the ‘dumbest things he’s ever said’ category in his brain. ****  
** **

 

But Harry just smiles, holding up his shopping basket awkwardly like a prize trophy. ‘Just some food shopping, you know,’ he drawls, his voice like warm maple syrup, ‘my roommate is here somewhere, helping, supposedly. But the general layout in our house is that I cook, and he eats, so. He’s not a lot of help. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what goes into spaghetti bolognese.’ ****  
** **

 

That makes Louis laugh, probably weirdly, Harry’s rambling leaving him feeling faintly breathless. ‘I’m basically on the same level as your roommate,’ he says, running a hand through his fringe, mainly for something to do. ‘Liv and I live off a few basic meals, don’t we Liv? Only the staples.’ ****  
** **

 

‘Daddy isn’t a very good cook,’ Olivia pipes up, helpful as always, ‘but he makes good tea. I always drink some before I go to bed.’ ****  
** **

 

Louis can see the cogs turning in Harry’s brain when Olivia says ‘Daddy’, and he sighs with relief inwardly when Harry simply smiles and says: ‘It’s a good skill, knowing how to make tea. I’d value it somewhere between being able to boil an egg and knowing how to bake a cake.’ He says this in a musing tone, like he’s really thinking it through. ****  
** **

 

‘Bake a _cake!’_ Olivia bursts into peals of laughter. ‘ _That’s_ not important. You can’t live off cake!’ ****  
** **

 

Harry waggles his eyebrows at her and crouches down. ‘Are you sure? Well, that’s a shame. I know how to make lots of yummy cakes. I was planning on living on cake for the rest of my life!’ ****  
** **

 

That sets Olivia off properly now, raucous laughter filling the air. Harry smiles softly as he watches her, and Louis thinks he might just die from the combined cuteness. ****  
** **

 

Louis is about to say something - he has no idea what - when Niall (Niall??) rounds the corner, spots Harry, and loops his arm around him. ‘You gotta stop talking to random people’s kids in the supermarket, Haz,’ he grins, gesturing at Olivia, who is still giggling, ‘it’s getting- Oh! Lou! Hey!’ ****  
** **

 

Louis isn’t really sure what is happening right now, he’d just come her to _buy bread,_ but he gives the universe points for trying to make his life more interesting. He decides to roll with it. ‘Hi, Ni’, he says, ‘ so you’re the culinary-challenged roommate? I can’t say I’m surprised, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you bring your own lunch.’ ****  
** **

 

Niall places a hand on his heart in mock-despair. ‘Oh, baby, you wound me.’  ****  
** **

 

Harry’s looking between the two of them like he’s watching a tennis match, his eyes almost bugged out of his head. ‘You guys...you _know_ each other?’ ****  
** **

 

Louis feels like his life in moving in fast-forward. ‘Uh, yeah,’ he says, glancing between Harry and Niall as he speaks, ‘Niall’s my… well…’ ****  
** **

 

‘I’m the receptionist,’ Niall puts in with a grin. ‘The best one in town, wouldn’t you say, Lou?’ ****  
** **

 

‘I know you’re the _receptionist, Niall._ ’ Harry’s voice is exasperated. ‘You’ve only been working there for _two years_ . I just had no idea you worked at the same place as Louis.’  ****  
** **

 

Niall sounds just as confused now, a small furrow between his eyebrows as he stares at Harry. ‘Didn’t you only meet him two days ago, Haz?’  ****  
** **

 

The blush that steals across Harry’s cheeks might be the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen.  ****  
** **

 

‘Well, yeah,’ Harry murmurs, the bluster in his tone evaporated, ‘but I thought… never mind.’ ****  
** **

 

‘You thought I was supposed to connect your borderline-stalker ramblings about some guy you met in the park to my _boss_?’ Niall laughs, clapping Harry on the shoulder in a way that certainly looks painful, ‘Harry, darling. I’m good, but I’m not that good.’

****

Harry, who has been turning steadily redder as Niall blabbers on, opens his mouth to say something and then closes it quickly. Instead, he claps his hands together once and clears his throat.

****

‘Anyway! We’d better be going, don’t you think, Niall? Don’t you have work tonight? If you want to eat more than burnt toast before you go, yours truly needs time to work his culinary magic.’

****

Niall scoffs at Harry’s remark, but straightens up nonetheless grins at Louis. ‘See you on Monday, Lou.’

****

‘Uh, bye, Ni,’ Louis replies, only slightly shocked at the abrupt departure.

****

Niall skips off with the shopping basket, humming as he rounds the corner into the next aisle. Louis is left with Harry and a bemused Olivia, who is currently examining the jars of pasta sauce on the shelf behind them.

****

Harry looks as awkward as Louis feels, his cheeks still faintly pink. ‘Sorry about -’ he stops, swallows. ‘Sorry about interrupting. You probably want to get home to, like, your family. I shouldn’t have -’

****

‘Harry, no,’ Louis interrupts, filled with the desire to reassure him that the only other family member who resides at his house is currently stacking pasta packets on the supermarket floor. ‘It’s… It’s only me and Liv, at home. So we’re free spirits, aren’t we, Liv?’

****

Olivia responds by knocking over her pile of pasta packets with a resounding _crash._

****

‘We practically live in the supermarket, anyway,’ Louis continues, honestly unsure of why he’s still talking, ‘might as well move in officially. Should probably buy shares in the business, or something, as well. Make some more cash.’

****

Harry just chuckles at Louis’ nonsensical ramblings, eyes sparkling. ‘Sounds like a plan, honestly. Maybe I’ll join you and we can set up residence right here, in aisle eight?’

****

‘Sounds good to me,’ Louis smiles. He silently begs the jittery butterflies in his stomach to stop. They’re talking about living in a _supermarket_ , for God’s sake. He needs to get a grip.

****

‘Anyway,’ Harry says reluctantly, drawing out the syllables even more than usual, ‘I should probably get going. Niall truly can’t cook for himself, and I pity his customers tonight if he hasn’t been fed. That’s not pretty.’

****

‘Wait, Niall has another job?’ Louis inquires, wondering just how hard the man works.

****

‘Only on Sunday nights,’ Harry replies. ‘Just for a bit of extra cash, you know. Plus, he loves _working_ in the restaurant, even if he can’t cook to save himself.’

****

‘Makes sense,’ Louis replies, nodding. Turning to Olivia, he says: ‘come on, you little monkey! We’re heading home.’

****

‘Yay!’ Olivia springs off the floor after carefully putting all the pasta packets back onto the shelf. ‘ _Finally._ You’ve been talking for _ages.’_

****

Louis feels his face go red, which. Honestly. He needs to stop being embarrassed by his daughter.

****

Scooping up the shopping and ruffling Olivia’s curls, Louis turns back to Harry and smiles.

****

‘Bye, Harry,’ he says, waving. He regrets the waving almost immediately.

****

But Harry just smiles a warm grin, like molasses, and waves dorkily right back, waggling his fingers. ‘See you, Lou.’

****

It’s only when Louis is piling his groceries into the back of his car that he realises Harry called him ‘Lou’.

****

***

****

October rolls around quickly, and soon Louis realises he has absolutely nothing organised for his party that is taking place in less than a month.

****

Last year the theme of Louis’ Halloween party was midnight, and he bought about a thousand packets of glow-in-the-dark stars and covered the roof of his flat with them, and served the drinks in black opaque glasses. The cake had been dark chocolate fondant, and each gooey slice had a tiny edible silver moon charm in it.  

****

The year before that, he’d done the afterlife as a theme, and decorated his whole apartment in gauzy white. He’d bought some low-quality harp cds from an op-shop and hooked his stereo up to his speakers, and all the guests had come dressed in various types of ‘dead’ - some with arrows in their chests, others with bullet wounds in their temples.

****

But he’s at a loss for this year’s Halloween party - life just feels so _full -_ full of work, and Olivia, and everything else in between, but also a certain curly-haired boy his brain seems to be stuck on. He’s completely out of ideas for anything party-related, but somehow fully able to catalogue all the ways Harry had smiled at Olivia in the supermarket, or the way Louis’ stomach won’t stop fluttering whenever he thinks about him. It’s like he’s sixteen and dreadfully horny all over again, or something.

****

*******

****

It’s almost a week before Louis gears himself up to ask Niall for Harry’s number. He doesn’t know if it’s stupid - they’ve only spoken a few times, after all - but _carpe diem_  and all that. Also, Louis thinks he might actually be going crazy and he doesn’t know what else to do, so. He’s resorted to asking for the cute boy’s number from their mutual friend. Yes, things are this dismal. Yes, Louis might just creepily, randomly text Harry because he no idea how else to go about it, whatever ‘it’ is.

****

Niall’s watching some sort of video when Louis approaches the front desk, but pretending (badly) to read over the diary for tomorrow as he does every afternoon, so he can email Louis his schedule for the next day.

****

Louis ignores this very blatant display of slacking off and leans forwards, propping his elbows up on the desk and trying to quell the nerves in his stomach.

****

Niall eyes him somewhat warily, glancing up at Louis and the nervous energy he must be very obviously emitting. He clears his throat, confused. ‘Can I help you…’

****

Louis decides to jump right in.

****

‘Niall, you know Harry, right?’ Mentally, Louis slaps himself and outwardly, he grimaces. _Nice one, Louis. Very smooth. Totally casual._

****

‘Yes, I do know Harry,’ Niall replies, deadpan, ‘have for a while, actually. Housemates and all that.’ Then a smirk breaks over his face. ‘Why?’ He says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

****

_God, does everyone in the world know about Louis’ little (hah) crush?_

****

‘I just thought, I mean, I just wondered,’ Louis stammers, ‘if he knew anything about… party planning?’

****

Louis wants to grab Niall’s stapler and attach his lips together so he can’t say anything else, ever. This is turning into a train wreck. _Party planning?_ Clearly Louis is more worried about this stupid party than he realises.

****

Niall’s positively beaming now, eyes bright with mirth. ‘You know Harry’s an event photographer?’ Which, no, Louis did not know. Maybe this conversation wasn’t completely a lost cause.

****

‘If this is about your Halloween party – which I’m very excited about, by the way – I could, you know, pass on his number. For party planning purposes, of course.’

****

Louis starts to protest that that wasn’t his goal at all, but that would be lying, so. Niall’s a mind reader and he decides to just roll with it.

****

‘Uh, yeah,’ Louis says, holding out his phone for Niall to take. ‘Just pop it in my contacts.’

****

Niall guffaws at this. ‘I could have just read it out to you, idiot,’ he chuckles as he keys a number into Louis’s phone. ‘You sure you’re not asking for _my_ number?’

****

‘Fairly sure, Niall,’ Louis retorts, smiling. ‘I find your unwavering obsession with stationary the tiniest bit creepy, to be honest. Sorry, mate, but no one goes to Paperchase five times a week. For fun.’

****

Niall huffs good-naturedly, handing Louis back his phone. ‘Whatever. You clearly haven’t ever used a blue glitter pen with 2mm and padded grip, complete with erasable ink.’

****

‘Obviously.’ Louis grins, shaking his head at his friend. ‘Thanks, Nialler. I’m going to go back to my office and _work._ ’

****

Niall stares blankly at him.

****

‘I can see your screen, you know.’ Louis says.

****

Niall blushes bright red and pauses his video. ‘Research purpose, of course, Lou.’

****

‘Sure, Niall.’

***

 

So now Louis has Harry’s number, and he isn’t quite sure what should happen next. He actually _could_ do with his help with party planning, if Niall was telling the truth about Harry being an events photographer. But, _dammit_ , he also wants to take Harry out on some terribly cliché date and kiss him until they’re both breathless. He wants to know Harry’s favourite colour, and if he has any siblings, and what his favourite tv show is. He wants to wake up to Harry in the morning, all sun-kissed and sleepy, and Louis wants to cook for him in his tiny apartment kitchen and share the food off one plate.

****

And Louis is fully aware that he’s in _way_ too deep to even think straight and he should probably slow the heck down, but whenever his brain directs his thoughts to Harry – which is a lot - his stomach fizzles like cola and (according to Zayn) he gets a terribly fond smile on his face. Louis feels like a hormonal teenager with a crush and _he doesn’t know what to do._

_***_

****

He’s embarked on a similar rant to Zayn late Thursday morning, perched atop his desk with Zayn lounged on Louis’ desk chair. They’re getting very little work done, but Louis is suffering, and Zayn is currently the only person who will indulge him and listen to his romantic ramblings.

****

‘God, Lou,’ Zayn sighs, spinning a pencil between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Sometimes I think _I’m_ a hopeless romantic and then I listen to you. _You can’t even cook.’_

****

‘Yeah, well, maybe having a boyfriend would inspire me to get better,’ Louis reasons, propping his chin on his hands. ‘You know, to cook dinners and bake things like cupcakes for Valentine’s Day. And I _can_ cook. I have a ten-meal repertoire. Just ask Liv.’

****

‘Right, and how many of those are variations of spaghetti bolognese?’ Zayn queries, a smirk tugging at his lips.

****

‘Oi, I’ll have you know, Z, that meatballs, lasagna and spaghetti bolognese are _very_ different meals.’ Louis replies. ‘Very different skills. The fact that they share a lot of the same key ingredients means absolutely _nothing_.’

****

‘Whatever, Lou. I just know that the one time you tried to actually follow a recipe you almost incinerated your hair _and_ your entire apartment in the process.’ Zayn shakes his head like he’s trying to dispel a particularly disturbing memory, which Louis thinks is just a tad dramatic. ‘Maybe Harry’s a terrible cook, too, and you’re match made in heaven.’

****

Louis smiles. ‘Or, maybe, he’s actually a terrific cook and then he could cook while I did something equally important. Like make Spotify playlists for said cooking.’

****

‘You’re getting that fond look you get whenever you talk about cooking,’ Zayn says, shaking his head. ‘God, you and your domesticity. I think it may be the death of me one day.’

****

Louis groans. ‘I think it might be the death of _me,_ actually, because these scenarios will never _happen,_ Zayn. Which makes me incredibly sad.’

****

‘ _Lou._ You have his number, what else are you waiting for?’ Zayn levels him with an appraising look. ‘Ask him if you guys can meet up and talk about, like, party planning or something. Then work your weird magic domestic charms.’

****

‘It wouldn’t be, I dunno, weird? To just ring and ask like that?’ Louis traps his bottom lip with his front teeth, gnawing on it.

****

‘For the love of God, just send him a _text,_ Lou. Please. Just be chill and say you need help with thinking of a theme and some decorations for your party – which isn’t a lie, anyway - and you heard he’s photographed a lot of parties. Just be casual.’

****

Louis exhales heavily. ‘So, don’t let on about my stupid crush on him, when I don’t even know that he’s gay? And how I want to cook badly for him and live with him and wake up-’

****

‘Maybe save that that for the second date,’ Zayn interrupts. ‘Wouldn’t want to scare the poor fella off.’ Zayn smiles then, warm and bright. ‘You’ve got this, Lou. If he _is_ into guys, he’d be crazy not to like you. Anyone would. Just don’t go in too hard at the beginning, okay?’

****

Louis is reminded once again just how much he loves his best friend.

****

‘This is why I put up with your I-haven’t-had-coffee moods, Zaynie,’ Louis says, ruffling his friend’s hair. ‘You do know how to give some pretty good advice.’

****

Zayn just dips his head dorkily, smiling around the pencil wedged between his teeth. ‘Anything for my favourite idiot. Now, text him.’

****

***

****

It’s been two hours since Louis texted Harry and he’s still got no reply. He’s only read over the text about five hundred times now checking for the little ‘read’ to appear, and he’s not convinced it sounds remotely normal anymore.  

****

**louis tomlinson:** _hi harry, louis here :) im sorry and i hope this isn’t weird but niall gave me your number im not just creepily texting u haha. he said u might know something about party planning and i was wondering maybe if we could catch up sometime and talk about my (legendary) halloween party … out of ideas this year unfortunately. anyway, let me know!  louis_

 

The rational part of Louis’s brain knows that this a couple of hours is a perfectly reasonable amount of time to wait for a reply to a text, and that Harry’s probably just incredibly busy shooting for a wedding or something equally important.

****

The irrational part, though, wonders if Harry’s seen Louis’s text and is currently laughing with Niall about how stupid it is, even though he knows neither of them would ever do that. His brain doesn’t seem to particularly care, though, continuing to provide increasingly realistic hypothetical situations until Louis decides he should probably start doing some work to distract himself.

****

Of course, he’s just begun to sort through his crammed inbox and reply to some emails when his phone chimes with an incoming message.

****

**harry styles** _: hii louis! it’s not creepy at all, I’d be super happy to help you with some party planning, I was shooting for a party only last weekend actually! just let me know where and when you want to meet up :)) harry x_

****

When his heart has stopped beating a million miles an hour, Louis rereads the text slowly, smiling at Harry’s rambling sentences and how the tone of his voice is so perfectly conveyed even in text form. The cute little smiley face with a double chin.

****

And (though he’d never admit it), Louis stares at that single ‘x’ at the end of the message until his eyes start to blur, and he still can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.

****

**louis tomlinson:** _thanks so much mate! does this saturday work for you? I can give u the address of a little café i like? louis x_

****

**harry styles:** _sure, sounds great lou! see you saturday :)) harry x_

****

***

****

Five outfit changes and surprisingly only one meltdown later, Louis is (mostly) ready to go and meet Harry. Currently, the autumn wind is howling against the window panes of his apartment and rain pounds down in heavy sheets, thumping against the roof like a drumbeat. His heater is hissing and wheezing like an old man and generally doing absolutely _nothing_ to take the chill off his icy apartment.

****

Louis looks longingly over to his couch, all covered in blankets and piled with cushions. If he squints he can maybe even see the faint imprint of his own body after he fell asleep there last night, somewhere between the seventh and eighth episodes of _Breaking Bad_.

****

Olivia is with his mum and he suddenly has a deep longing for her, wishing she could come out to meet up with Harry with him. Deep down, though, he knows that it’s probably best to keep things separate for the time being.

****

Eventually, Louis just sighs and shrugs on his coat, switching off the lights in his apartment and pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

****

Even though it’s only three o’clock, the sky is dark and Louis has to squint to see the pavement in front of him so he doesn’t trip over his own feet. Due to his lack of an umbrella he’s essentially soaked through in ten seconds, and by the time he reaches the café where he’s meeting Harry, he’s shivering violently and very much regretting the decision to even get out of bed this morning.

****

Louis doesn’t see Harry right away - he’s too busy wringing out his fringe - so he startles at the voice right next to his left ear and the slight hint of warm breath on his cheek.

****

‘Hi, Louis!’

****

Harry’s beside him grinning like a child on Christmas and Louis just ignores the dampness of his socks and the rainwater dripping down his back and smiles back stupidly.

****

‘Hey, Harry.’

****

‘I have a table just over there,’ Harry rushes on, the words almost tripping over themselves in the air, ‘if you want to put your bag down, or anything. Otherwise I was just heading up the counter to order a muffin or something.’ He smiles at Louis warmly.

****

‘Mm, a muffin sounds good,’ Louis says, his stomach rumbling in agreement. ‘Do you mind if I just give you some cash and I go sit down? My socks are kind of squelchy.’

****

‘No, of course not!’ Harry smiles, rearranging his wallet and water bottle in his hands so he can accept the money Louis is holding out to him. ‘We’re right in front of the heater over there, so. Hopefully you can warm up.’

****

Louis grins gratefully and squelches his way over to the table Harry has picked, which is right next to the window and has an uninterrupted view of the crazy weather. As he gets closer Louis notices that it’s also adorned with tiny plastic pumpkins and spiders. A tall heater stands next to the table, and Louis can feel the warmth soak into his skin as he flops into one of the seats, automatically feeling the rainwater in his carefully-chosen jeans seep into the seat cushion. He sighs, flicking his fringe back from his eyes vigorously and trying to wring out the sleeves of his jacket without being _too_ obvious.

****

He obviously hasn’t succeeded, because when Harry comes back to the table, holding a plate with two steaming muffins on it, he outright _giggles_ as he sits down, his lips curved into an amused smile.

****

‘You’re really soaking wet, huh?’ Harry states then, furrowing his brows a little. ‘Are you freezing, too? We can swap seats if you want. This one’s closer to the heater, I think.’

****

Louis shakes his head, already feeling himself warm up considerably in his seat and the water dripping down his back start to dry up. ‘I’m all good, thank you though. I think I’m starting to dry up, finally.’

****

‘I got you a blueberry muffin,’ Harry continues, gesturing towards the plate on the table. ‘I wasn’t sure, but I figured everyone like blueberry muffins, right?’ He knots his hands together with an adorably worried look and Louis sort of wants to kiss him. ‘If you don’t, we can-’

****

‘ _Harry,’_ Louis interrupts, a grin on his face. ‘Everything’s fine, ok? I love blueberry muffins. Thank you for getting this.’

****

Harry’s answering grin makes Louis want to kiss him even more.

****

‘So,’ Harry says, still smiling, ‘you needed some help with your party?’

****

***

****

‘I can’t have pumpkins as my theme, Harry!’ Louis giggles, laughter bubbling through him, ‘ _pumpkins aren’t a theme!’_

****

‘They could be, if you just gave them a chance, Louis,’ Harry pouts, playfully, ‘think of the food options! The decorations!’

****

‘Some pumpkin-shaped fairy lights and orange streamers?’ Louis says back, shaking his head, ‘what _are_ you talking about? I can’t have a vegetable as a theme, Harry!’

****

Harry picks up the little plastic pumpkin on the table, and holds it up to Louis’ face, grinning wildly.  ‘Look at him, Lou. He wants to be the theme of your party this year. He’s begging you.’

****

_‘It’s a pumpkin, Harry!’_

****

They laugh and laugh and Louis feels so light he thinks he could float away.

****

***

****

‘So I think I may be well and truly fucked, Zayn.’ Louis thumps his head gently onto his desk.

****

To Zayn’s credit, he doesn’t sigh like this is the fifth time Louis has says this, which it is. He doesn’t ignore Louis completely and continue doing (probably important) work on his laptop. Instead, he props his head on his hands and blinks his lashes at Louis sleepily.

****

‘So, you had fun?’

****

Louis groans. ‘God, yeah, I had _fun,_ Zayn _._ So much it’s almost embarrassing. I sort of want to marry him. Like, now.’

****

Zayn smiles coyly, nodding. ‘Thought you would. Didn’t I say it would be a good idea?’

****

‘Yes, you did,’ Louis says, frowning at him. ‘But it’s also made things about a hundred times _worse_ because it felt almost like a _date_ and I want to pitch myself off the nearest rooftop.’

****

‘Oh, Lou,’ Zayn sighs, peering at him over the lid of his computer. ‘You could just ask him out, you know.’

****

‘I couldn’t possibly do that, Zayn,’ Louis says, slightly panicky.

****

Because Louis is a coward (yes, he accepts this) he doesn’t ask Harry to go out with him, per se. He invites him out to afternoon tea again, because they hadn’t achieved much at their catch up other than Louis confirming he might as well give on trying to just like Harry as a friend - that was never going to happen. Louis figures that _maybe_ if him and Harry go out enough, Harry might realise Louis isn’t the absolute worst after all, and like him back.

****

Louis is aware his plan is filled with flaws (and isn’t really much of a plan, anyway), he sends Harry another text and they eventually schedule another afternoon tea for the following week.

****

***

****

The first part of October passes quickly, in a blur of work and baking with Olivia and hanging out with Zayn and meeting up with Harry. If Louis is honest his hours with Harry are probably what keeps him sane each week, and now that they’ve finally decided on a theme for Louis’ Halloween party he has a lot less to worry about. Other than organising and throwing the actual party is a less than two weeks, of course.

****

The theme of Louis’ (and Louis is starting to think of it as Harry’s as well) party is going to be the idea of a haunted house. They plan to decorate each room of Louis’ flat in a different theme, and over the last couple of weeks Harry has enthusiastically drawn up a detailed diagram on various café napkins of how each room is going to look. Louis has assisted by providing snacks and the occasional good idea, but he can’t deny that a lot of the planning is down to Harry.

****

The week before the party (which Louis isn’t actually holding on Halloween, because he and his friends have a sacred tradition to uphold on that day), Louis goes shopping for everything on the party list, sending Harry the occasional text, like:

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** do think this spiderweb is okay for the lounge room? and how many should i buy??

****

**_harry styles:_ ** i think it’s perfect. and im a little offended you didn’t say ‘we’, to be honest, because im starting to feel like this party is our baby or something

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** fine :) how many should WE buy, harry?

****

**_harry styles:_ ** thats more like it, partner… i think six or seven should be good x

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** ok x

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** omg harry! i just spotted some pumpkin fairy lights. shaaame we didn’t go with a pumpkin theme ;)

****

**_harry styles:_ ** BUY THEM

****

**_harry styles:_** louis!!!! you have to get them anyway!!!

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** cool it, styles, i bought them. i do expect to be reimbursed, however

****

**_harry styles:_ ** i’ll pay you in decorating skills, i’ll have you know im an absolute pro when it comes to decorating :)

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** not to toot your own horn, or anything

****

**_harry styles:_ ** never!

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** ok, well if you really want to you can come over the afternoon of the party and help set up. guess i could use an extra pair of hands

****

**_harry styles:_ ** and to hang things in those higher places, right? ;)

****

**_louis tomlinson:_** >:( shut up, see you saturday

****

**_louis tomlinson:_ ** xx

****

**_harry styles:_** haha cant wait xx

****

***

****

‘Lou, is this straight?’

****

Louis swallows down the joke he’s dying to make and squints up at Harry, who’s currently perched on the top step of Louis’ ladder hanging fake spider webs from the ceiling.

****

‘A little to the left, dear,’ Louis replies, looking back down at the tiny skull-shaped fairy lights he’s untangling. ‘Don’t fall off, God.’

****

‘I’m not gonna _fall off,_ Lou,’ Harry replies a little wearily, because it isn’t the first time Louis has raised his concern. ‘I am perfectly capable of standing on a ladder and hanging some spiderwebs. Go back to your fairy lights.’

****

‘Aw, you guys are like an old married couple,’ Niall pipes up from the next room, where he’s- actually, Louis isn’t quite sure what Niall is doing. He’d come along with Harry and Louis hasn’t really seen him since he announced he was ‘going to check out the layout of the flat for optimal decorating.’

****

‘Shut up, Niall,’ Louis and Harry reply in unison, because it isn’t the first time Niall has said this, either.

****

‘See! You’re just proving my point!’ Niall crows, popping his head around the doorframe. ‘Speaking at the same time and shit. ‘S actually a little creepy.’

****

‘Niall,’ Louis hisses, gesturing to Olivia, who is cuddled up with Puck on the couch. ‘Are you even making an _effort_ not to swear?’

****

‘Sorry,’ Niall whispers, voice hushed. ‘But God, it’s _really_ hard.’

****

‘And yet somehow the rest of us manage,’ Harry says drilly from his perch on the ladder. ‘We- ah, fuck, I just cut my finger on that hook, _ow.’_ He blushes. ‘Oops.’

****

‘You’re both terrible,’ Louis says, shaking his head ruefully, but he can’t help the smile that’s creeping onto his face.

****

‘There you go again,’ Niall mutters, fishing around in his pockets for a plaster for Harry. ‘It’s alright when _he_ swears.’

****

Louis ignores him, but he wonder his face is as he red as he thinks it is.

****

Harry’s crimson cheeks suggest that it probably is.

****

After they finish turning Louis’ front room into a spider’s den, complete with hundreds of plastic spiders and enough fake spider webs to send Harry into a sneezing fit, they move into the kitchen, which is going to be set out like a murder scene. This room is Harry’s pride and joy, and Louis steps back and simply watches while Harry splatters fake blood all over the countertop, dips a knife in more of the stuff and places it on the bench, adding more red smears to various cupboard doors and the front of the oven.

****

The final touch is a dripping, blood-red handprint on the pantry, which Olivia insists on doing herself, managing to cover herself with red in the process. When the kitchen’s done, though, Louis has to admit it looks absolutely terrifying and he’s only vaguely disturbed about what might be going on in Harry’s mind.

****

They move through the apartment, decorating as they go: turning Louis’ office into a witches cave complete with a giant plastic cauldron that Niall had found _somewhere,_ which he even goes to the length of filling with ridiculous amounts of various soft drinks and dubbing a ‘witches potion.’ Louis just shakes his head in amusement as Harry even runs to fetch a wooden spoon from the kitchen to ‘make sure it’s all blended, Louis, duh,’ and Niall tastes a tiny bit off the spoon and claims he can already feel all the sugar in his stomach.

****

The dining room is into a doll’s tea party with some derelict old dolls Louis found in a chest at an op shop and a cracked set of cups and saucers. Olivia props each doll up on a cushion so they’re all sitting at the table properly, dusty glass eyes seeming to peer eerily at anyone who walked by.

****

Harry scatters a whole armful clown noses into the laundry and argues that ‘yes, Louis, that is _plenty_ scary enough, I absolutely _hate_ clowns,’ while shutting the door firmly behind him as Niall guffaws loudly.

****

Olivia screeches in delight as Harry chases after her with a pair of fangs on, grinning madly, and Louis feels like his heart might actually burst through his chest.

****

_***_

****

A few hours later and the whole flat is done - looking amazing, if Louis does say himself. The guests aren’t due to arrive for a another couple of hours, so Harry and Niall are heading home to change into their costumes while Louis drops Olivia at his mum’s for the night.

****

‘See ya soon, Lou,’ Niall says, waving, as he turns to go, tugging his jacket and scarf on over his t-shirt. ‘You ready, Haz?’

****

‘Just a second!’ Harry replies, his head in the fridge. He pops up, frowning at Louis. ‘I thought we made two batches up the pumpkin cupcakes. Is that going to be enough icing for them all?’

****

They’d also prepared the last of the food at some point in the evening, too - most of it was just chips and vegetables and various other things that took almost no time (the best kind, in Louis’ opinion) - but Harry had insisted they make some of the food as well. He’d cooked up a batch of spiced pumpkin cupcakes, made cinnamon snickerdoodles, and even cut up some tiny sandwiches in the shape of spiders with a cookie cutter Louis had in the back of his cupboard. Louis had contributed by carving four pumpkins (which had _not_ been easy work), and Niall had rushed out to buy tea lights to illuminate them, because of course Louis didn’t have any of those.

****

‘I think it’ll be enough,’ Louis says, walking over to the fridge and standing next to Harry. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s a small bowl of icing as well as that big one, too. Behind the apples, maybe?’

****

Harry moves the apples aside and sure enough, there sits a small plastic bowl filled with more icing, ready to be added to the cupcakes.

****

‘Thank goodness,’ Harry exhales, seeming genuinely troubled by the idea of not having enough icing. ‘Don’t keep it on the fridge for too long, though. It’ll get hard. Put it on the bench for a bit before you ice the cupcakes.’

****

‘Yes, chef,’ Louis teases, shutting the fridge door and turning to face Harry with a smile. ‘I won’t mess it up, I promise.’

****

Harry starts to say something and then seems to forget it - he just looks at Louis for a moment, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, like he’s thinking hard about something. His eyes roam over Louis’ face and flicker - maybe, if Louis isn’t imagining it - down to Louis’ lips for a fraction of a second before he snaps out of it, blinking at Louis rapidly and exhaling a shaking breath.

****

‘You’ve-’ Harry breathes, softly. ‘You’ve got a bit of… right there.’ He points to a spot on Louis’ cheek with one long finger, eyes piercing.

****

‘Oh, um’ Louis brushes his cheek with the back of his hand, cheeks hot. _Calm down._ ‘There?’ His stomach flutters with nerves. _Maybe, maybe, maybe._

****

Harry smiles, but there’s something deeper to it, some emotion Louis can’t remember ever seeing on Harry’s face before. ‘Not quite. Here..’ And then he reaches forward, extends his hand and brushes Louis’ cheek ever so slightly, like a summer breeze. He wipes a spot of fake blood from Louis’ cheekbone with fingertips so soft Louis can barely concentrate.

****

‘Got it,’ Harry murmurs, eyes still locked with Louis’. Louis feels like he’s pinned to the spot. He can’t seem to think of anything to say, or make his legs move. He doesn’t know that he wants to.

****

The moment seems to hang between them forever.

****

Then abruptly, like a dash of cold water, Harry clears his throat and steps back, jamming his hands into his pockets and glancing up at Louis, slowly.

****

‘So, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, ok?’ Harry says, but his voice is lacking its usual shine _._ Louis can’t help but wonder what went wrong, can’t help but think that Harry _definitely_ isn’t on the same page as him if being that close to Louis causes a reaction like that.

****

Louis smiles, but his insides are churning. ‘Yeah. See you tonight, Haz.’

****

The nickname slips out without warning, and Louis immediately wants to snatch the word out of the air because Harry probably finds that weird as well. They haven’t known each other that long, for God’s sake. Louis feels vaguely sick at the idea of Harry feeling uncomfortable with him.

****

The sound of Harry shutting the door behind him makes Louis’ head hurt.

****

***

****

The party is in full swing before Harry arrives, and Louis’ stomach is in knots, even though everything is going perfectly. He’s already received a ton of compliments from various guests about all the different rooms, and he can’t keep wishing Harry could hear the nice words, too.

****

In all the rush over the decorations, Louis had almost forgotten that he needed a costume, hence the reason he’s gone with a boring vampire look. He’d found some fangs at the back of his bedside table drawer, and a cape in his cupboard. A white shirt and black skinny jeans complete the look, and Louis knows it isn’t the best thing he’s ever worn to one of his parties, but he looks ok.

****

He blames Harry, who _still_ isn’t here yet. Why had he left like that? Had Louis imagined the moment, was it all in his head? He thought back to Harry’s loaded look, his slightly blown pupils. Louis doesn’t think he imagined _that._

****

Zayn’s in charge of the music as usual, and the beat is pounding through Louis’ head, making it hard to think. He just wants Harry to arrive, he just wants to talk things through with him. As much as he wishes there could be something more between them, he also values Harry immensely as a friend, and he doesn’t want to lose that.

****

After about an hour, though, Louis has just decided - possibly because he kind of wants to get drunk right now - to forget about Harry Styles, who is obviously not coming to his party. He’s debating what he should use to get crazily drunk on and about to find Niall for his own personal recommendation when he hears a soft voice near his right ear.

****

‘Hey, Lou.’

****

Louis whips around, glass in his hand. _He knows that voice._

****

Harry’s standing right behind him, dressed as-

****

‘A clown?’ Louis splutters, gaping a little. ‘But before you said- you said you _hated_ clowns!’

****

Harry nods and smiles, but it’s soft, subdued. ‘Yeah. But sometimes-’ He takes a deep breath, clasps his hands together shakily. ‘Sometimes, you have to face your fears.’

****

Louis just breathes, his heart thumping. _Did he mean..._

****

‘I wondered,’ Harry continues, his words slow and tentative, ‘whether maybe we could talk, somewhere?’

****

Louis forgets about his pact to forget about Harry Styles and simply nods, tilting his head towards the kitchen. ‘We can go in there.’

****

‘Louis, I’m so sorry,’ Harry bursts out as soon as the kitchen door is shut behind them, his voice cracking in the middle of the last word. ‘I’m sorry for walking out like that, I’m sorry for leaving you like that.’ He exhales a heaving breath. ‘God, that was so wrong of me.’

****

‘I’m confused, honestly,’ Louis says, frowning. ‘I, just- I don’t get it. What happened that made you feel so uncomfortable?’ Louis thinks he actually might know, but he doesn’t really want to think about that.

****

‘It was…’ Harry pinches his bottom lip between his teeth, brow furrowed. ‘Just this afternoon, at the fridge, when you…’

****

‘When I had the fake blood on my face,’ Louis finishes slowly, ‘yeah, I know.’ He raises his eyebrows at Harry. ‘But it wasn’t about the blood, you literally smeared that stuff all through here, remember? So what is it?’

****

Harry takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself. ‘You’re right, it wasn’t the blood. It was- you. You just turned around and I… panicked.’

****

‘Panicked _why,_ though, Harry,’ Louis asks. ‘Just tell me _why_. It is because we-’

****

‘It’s because I desperately wanted to kiss you, Louis,’ Harry says all in a rush.

****

‘You- what?’ Louis is stunned.

****

‘I wanted to kiss you _so bad,_ Lou, and I panicked because that’s definitely overstepping some sort of friend line, and I _so_ want us to still be friends, Louis, because I like you a lot, as a friend, but also I-’

****

‘ _Harry.’_ Louis whispers, ‘Harry. Just breathe, darling.’

****

Harry jerks his head up at the last word, confusion evident on his face. ‘What…’

****

‘I really like you too, Harry,’ Louis grins, and he’s almost laughing because the whole situation is just really funny. ‘God, I like you too, _so much,_ and I thought you left like that because I was being too obvious, or something. I thought you finally figured out my massive crush on you.’

****

‘Your massive crush on me,’ Harry repeats, voice hushed and a tiny smile on his lips. ‘Are you… are you _kidding?’_

****

‘I’m not kidding,’ Louis laughs, bumping their foreheads together gently. ‘I’m not kidding, Harry.’

****

Harry’s smile is so wide and so beautiful Louis wants to name a star after it.

****

Louis pressed up against the kitchen bench now, and Harry’s right in front of him and Louis _knows_ \- he knows Harry likes him - but he can’t bring himself to make the first move, no matter how much he wants to. He still hasn’t quite forgotten the look on Harry’s face at the fridge earlier.

****

‘I really, really want to kiss you right now,’ Harry murmurs, and he’s so close that Louis can smell his tangy scent, can count the eyelashes fanned against his cheek. He smells like cinnamon and autumn and _there isn’t enough air_.

****

‘Lou,’ he says, a tiny tremor in his voice that makes Louis’ heart skip a beat. ‘Just tell me you want this, too.’

 

Everything clicks into place in Louis’ head, suddenly - _of course he wants this, this is what he’s wanted for weeks._ ‘God, Harry, yes _,'_ Louis says, his voice trembling, ‘ _please_.’

****

Harry’s answering smile is breathtaking and Louis wants to write sonnets about it. And then Harry’s lips are on his and Louis stops thinking about anything else other than this moment.

****

Harry kisses like he talks, slow and languid and soft, and Louis thinks he might combust right there on the spot. After a few seconds, though, Louis breaks away, laughing. ‘I’m kissing a _clown,'_ he giggles, gesturing at Harry’s outfit and laughing again. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s too funny.’

****

Harry pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. ‘I thought the clown was quite symbolic, myself,’ he says, eyes still on Louis’ lips. ‘Facing your fears, and all that. Better than anything with blood anyway. Speaking of blood…’

****

Harry reaches out his hand, just like this afternoon, but this time he brushes a thumb over Louis’ bottom lip, so slowly. Louis feels like he might explode.

****

‘Yes?’ Louis says, surprised he can still form coherent words.

****

‘You haven’t got anything on your face,’ Harry says, a cheeky smile quirking his lips. ‘I just wanted to touch you again.’

****

‘You’re a menace,’ Louis whispers.

****

‘Probably,’ Harry grins, swiping Louis’ lips with his thumb again. 'You wanna kiss me again, vampire?’

****

‘I really, really do.’ Louis places a hand on each of Harry’s biceps and closes his eyes, sinking in to the next kiss.

****

Harry hums into it, his hands on Louis’ hips, and Louis feels him smile.

****

_**Epilogue** _

****

_Note: I’ve never been pumpkin picking and I assumed you could go pumpkin picking really close to Halloween. Apparently, you actually can’t (?), but we’re just gonna ignore that teensy little detail for the epilogue. Enjoy!!_

****

**Five Days Later**

****

The tires of Zayn’s car rattle on the road, the rough gravel surface making Louis’ head spin. He’s sitting next to Harry, who has his head on Louis’ shoulder, and Olivia - who is seated on his other side - keeps throwing him looks like she knows exactly what is going on.

****

The farm where they always go for pumpkin picking looks the same as ever, and the familiarity of the routine make Louis smile as they tumble all out of the car. Louis can smell that familiar _autumn scent_ that’s so difficult to describe, and he's a car with some of his favourite people in the whole world, and he's just so  _happy._

****

Zayn is saying something, but Louis isn’t properly paying attention, more focused on the sweet smell of Harry’s shampoo and the single unruly curl that is currently tickling his nose. The rest of Harry’ hair is pulled up into a messy bun and coupled with his red flannel shirt and scuffed boots, Harry is pulling off the farmer look pretty well in Louis’ opinion. Except for the ridiculously tight skinny jeans. Louis is pretty sure _they_ aren’t typical farmer attire.

****

‘ _Louis!’_

****

Louis snaps his head around to look at Zayn, who’s watching him with a frustrated tug to his eyebrows. The fond smirk on his lips gives him away a bit, though.

****

‘I don’t even see why we _need_ pumpkins,’ Zayn says, voice sleepy. ‘Halloween’s in, like, two days. You’ve had your party. Harry’s baked every single pumpkin recipe on the Internet.’

****

‘Because it’s _tradition,_ Z,’ Louis says, ‘we do it every single year and every year we have the same argument. Just embrace your inner pumpkin, ok?’

****

Zayn shakes his head, ruefully smiling at Louis. To his left Harry is laughing, the warm sound vibrating through Louis’ body. ‘What I mean is _,_ let’s not make this into the usual palaver you insist on every autumn. We don’t need to be here for hours like we usually are, right? It’s just picking _pumpkins.’_

****

Niall just nods in response, probably keen to get back to his couch and television and readily accessible fridge. Harry looks like he’s about to argue about the merits of pumpkin picking when a voice interrupts them.

 

‘ _Just_ picking pumpkins?’

****

Zayn spins around with a borderline-murderous look on his face, looking ready to punch this complete stranger full in the face.

****

But, wow.

****

This stranger is one of the best-looking strangers Louis has ever laid eyes upon (aside from Harry in the park, of course), and he’s dressed in a uniform brown shirt and mustard-coloured slacks. No one should have been able to pull it off, but somehow, he’s managing.

****

Zayn’s face is a glorious shade of red, flustered like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit jar. Inwardly, Louis feels sorry for Zayn for having to think of a vaguely coherent response in circumstances such as these. Outwardly, he smirks, raising an eyebrow. 'And that’s what happens when you bad-mouth pumpkin picking, Zaynie – which, clearly,' he squints at the stranger’s name tag, ' _Liam_ here understands.'

****

‘Exactly,’ Liam grins, his face even more adorable. Out of the corner of his eyes, Louis can see that Zayn is basically _drooling_.

****

‘Well, Liam,’ Louis says, ready to move the conversation along into something vaguely productive, ‘which field do you recommend us to head to? We want the best pumpkins.’

****

‘Of course,’ Liam says, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. ‘I can take you, if you want? It’s not that busy today. Actually, you guys are the first customers I’ve seen all day.’

****

Zayn is violently shaking his head behind Liam’s back, but because Louis counts himself as a good friend he simply nods at Liam and smiles.

****

‘Special treatment? Sounds great. Lead the way, mate.’

****

He throws in the ‘mate’ for Harry’s sake, who’s starting to look adorably frowny at Louis and Liam’s exchange.

****

The follow Liam in a single file, Harry snaking his hand round Louis’ waist. They end up at a small field not that far from where they had met Liam, and it’s filled with ripe orange pumpkins peeking out through glossy green leaves.

****

‘You don’t think we could have found this ourselves?’ Harry murmurs to Louis, his breath warm. ‘It’s, like, twenty metres away from where we were just standing.’

****

Louis hums in agreement, smiling at the way Liam has not-so-subtly edged closer to Zayn, and is pointing out something in the field to him with a slightly pink blush to his cheeks. He points this out to Harry.

****

‘Ah.’ Harry smiles, swivelling around to face Louis. ‘Well, I guess _they’re_ distracted. You think we can rely on Niall to pick the actual pumpkins?’

****

‘I think so,’ Louis replies, eyeing Niall, who is currently engaged in a ferocious battle with a pumpkin he’s trying to yank out of the ground like his life depends on it. Olivia is watching in a fit of giggles. ‘He looks pretty committed to that task over there.’

****

Harry nods, but he’s still looking at Louis, eyes dancing. In one swift movement, he grabs Louis’ hand and pulls him behind a row of trees, effectively blocking them both from view.  

****

‘What on earth will we do to pass the time?’ Harry whispers, cradling Louis’ jaw with his hand, thumb rubbing against his skin softly.

****

‘I don’t know,’ Louis mumbles, his thoughts fumbling, because Harry’s eyes are _so green_ and he can’t seem to make his brain work. Being in Harry’s presence is still crazily addictive, and Louis literally has to look away before he speaks again. ‘I could think of a few ideas, maybe…’

****

And then he’s pressing his mouth to Harry’s, and the air around them smells of spices and the earthy scent of autumn, and Harry’s hand is in his hair, and Louis feels overwhelmed but in such a _good_ way.

****

This kiss is slow and sweet and Louis feels drunk off the way Harry tastes, the feel of his lips on his and the way he angles his jaw just right. Their entire bodies are pressed together and Louis swear time isn’t actually passing, it’s just the two of them locked in their own little bubble.

****

Louis doesn’t know how long they stand there kissing, but it’s long enough for Harry to start moaning softly and breathily into Louis’ mouth. Harry’s hips are rutting against Louis slightly, and Louis groans because his whole body aches with how much he wants it, but they’re at a _public_ _pumpkin patch_ and they can’t, not here.

****

‘ _Louis,’_ Harry breathes, his lips red and his chest heaving. ‘Louis, we- we can’t but-’

****

Louis nods, a little shakily. ‘I know, but, maybe-’ He stops, swallows. ‘Maybe you want to come back to my house, later?’

****

Harry’s smile lights up his whole face. ‘I thought I was already coming over for dinner?’ He teases.

****

Louis grins. ‘Of course you were, my mistake. Olivia is with my mum tonight, as well, so…’

****

Harry waggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘What on earth could you be insinuating, Louis?’

****

‘I don’t know if you ever saw my bedroom while you were at the party’ Louis whispers, feeling Harry’s stomach muscles flutter under his fingertips, ‘I could give you the guided tour.’

****

In lieu of a reply, Harry leans in to kiss him again, deep and unhurried. Then he pulls away, his emerald eyes sparkling. ‘I’d love that.’

****

Louis is about to lean in and kiss Harry again when Zayn bursts through the bushes, panting, and it’s a sign of his excitement that he doesn’t comment on their position, he just brandishes his phone at them manically. Louis doesn’t know if he’s even seen Zayn so excited in all the years he’s known him.

****

‘I got his number!’ Zayn erupts, his voice filled with happiness. ‘Liam’s, I mean. And I even asked _him_! I’ve never, ever done that before.’

****

‘Good for you, Zayn,’ Harry says, smiling. ‘You two are cute together.’

****

‘Well, we’ll see,’ Zayn replies, voice measured and even, but the little smile on his lips betrays him. ‘I don’t know… I feel like maybe this could be something really good.’

****

Louis ruffles Zayn's hair affectionately. ‘Just think, Z, if we’d never gone pumpkin picking, you would never have have met him. The tradition that was _my_ idea, by the way. Just in case you’ve forgotten.’

****

‘And if _I_ hadn’t said you should text Harry, you might not currently be wrapped around him like a sloth,’ Zayn point out, gesturing to their still-entwined bodies. ‘So I feel like we might be even.’

****

Harry leans down and kisses Louis gently on the forehead, an amused smile on his face. ‘Well thank you, Zayn. I feel like I owe you something.’

****

‘Just some more of those cinnamon snickerdoodles,’ Zayn replies, ‘and a little less PDA, although I doubt that’s possible.’

****

Louis kisses Harry’s nose gently. ‘It isn’t.’

****

Eventually Niall wanders up, too, carrying more pumpkins in his arms than Louis ever thought was possible. He looks at Zayn, who is smiling at something on his phone, and then at Louis and Harry, whose hands are still linked.

****

‘Right, I see what’s going on here,’ he states, dropping the pumpkins on the grass at his feet. ‘We’ll let _Niall_ pick all the pumpkins, even though he couldn’t possibly stomach a single more pumpkin-related morsel, and we’ll stay here doing- actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Just, grab a pumpkin, for God’s sake. My arms are killin’ me.’

****

The sun is warm on Louis’ shoulders as they walk back across the grass, and he’s holding a pumpkin in one hand and Harry’s hand in the other. The auburn autumn leaves are crunching under the soles of his boots and his heart is full.

****

Harry looks at him and smiles, as if he can read Louis’ thoughts, and reaches down and squeezes Louis’ hand. He’s humming a song under his breath, and Louis recognises the melody as the Beatles’ ‘ _Here Comes the Sun.’_

****

It’s a tiny gesture, but to Louis it feels like a promise.  

****

_the end_

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so so much for reading!!! any kudos & comments are so SO appreciated <33  
> come say hi on my tumblr: [paisleystyles](https:/paisleystyles.tumblr.com)  
> if you liked it, id love u for a million years if u reblogged the [fic post](https://paisleystyles.tumblr.com/post/179025180819/paisleystyles-that-sweet-something-by)  
> \- rosie


End file.
